


Drinks With Peter Pan

by casdere (kancake)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, disney face characters, maybe other angels in minor rolls, single father!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kancake/pseuds/casdere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a single father with A Job and a season pass to Disneyworld. What could possibly go wrong?</p><p>(Peter Pan steals Claire's ice cream, she gets him to sign her autograph book every time she sees him, and Jess is the prettiest princess in all the land.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> continuing my legacy as that guy with the single dad romcom fics

Shrieking.

Something about it never ceases to send you spiralling into dread for a split second. Logically you know her screams are that of joy, as you just witnessed the events unfold before you, but there's still that moment of unease, because she's still so young, you still want to keep her so safe.

No, no, that isn't the thing to think about right now. Right now, Claire is shrieking because Gabriel has just offered her (and you) a complete, all access, season pass to Disneyworld. You do not believe you have ever been more unbelievably pissed in your entire life, and that's saying a lot, having had to grow up with Gabriel's antics (although, at the time, he could split his efforts between you and Jimmy). Claire, of course, is ecstatic, and on the surface layer, you're happy because she's happy, it's been a while since you'd seen her so happy, but you also knew she'd want to go. Every. Day. And you just can't handle that where you're at now. You've only had legal guardianship of Claire for a little over two years. You're currently trying to handle being a single dad of a four, or, now five year old little girl. You have a job, for God's sake. Gabriel is heading back towards the west coast in two days, you know he isn't sticking around to take responsibility.

Claire holds the passes in her small hands up to your face, or as close to your face as she can get, as she continues shrieking, and she's caught you when she screams, "look, do you see? Uncle Gabe says we can go whenever we want!! Any time, can we go, please, Daddy?"

You crumple to your knees and move the passes to give her a tight hug and assure, "of course we can, I'll try to make as much time as I can, I promise, sweetie," and you are horribly ill-prepared for the new wave of shrieks sounding right in your ear. Gabriel gives you a fond grin, and you make sure you mouth at least five threats at him before he makes it out of your house. Of course, you get nothing but varying degrees of smiles back from him. It takes, maybe, three minutes after Gabriel's departure before Claire is asking if you can go now. After you tell her no, it will have to wait until next week for you to sort out all your work, she begins to cry. Honestly, you don't know what you expected.

You make her a small snack and prepare her favourite juice and wait for it to blow over. It takes longer than you wish, but after a while she crawls off the couch and slinks towards her prepared snack plate. You don't stop her when she brings it back to the couch, deciding you've ruined her life enough for one day without adding "no food on the couch" to the list. Instead, you sit with her, and she requests, "at least let us watch Disney channel!"

Grudgingly, you change it to whatever horrible live action show is on Disney today. Honestly, you wouldn't mind watching cartoons, but a grown man can only watch so many episodes of _Wizards of Waverly Place_ and _Sonny with a Chance_ before he's sure he must be losing braincells. But, again, you needed to earn some brownie points if you were hoping to make it an entire week of not going to Disneyworld out of the whole season you'll have.

As expected, the meltdowns don't stop. She has another the very next day when you tell her you still can't go, and she has two the following day when you assure her not much longer. The next day she locks herself in her room for an hour and comes out with her little pink backpack shoved full of essentials and informs you that you've left her no choice, now she has to run away to Disneyworld, and she bids you her good riddance. You give her your best dismayed face as she marches out of the house.

She returns only a little more than thirty minutes later, looking completely winded and covered in mud. She slings her backpack back to the floor and lets out and exasperated "it's a jungle out there! I think we better stick together from now on," and you hum in agreement, setting her dinner on the table and leading her to at least wash the mud from her hands.

The next day is the worst of all, because you have most of the day off work, which leads her to believe you should be able to ship right off, and how do you explaining getting extra work done ahead from home to a five year old with a season pass to Disneyworld. You could seriously use a parenting for dummies book right about now, but after another hour of crying and two ice cream cones, she settles sitting on your knee while you type away on your computer, trying to get as much work done in advance for the impeding number of days off you'll be needing to take. She watches your screen with fascination, her eyes scanning the lines of text as if she can actually process what it all means (and that's just what you need, is for her to end up being a little genius, as if the tattered remains of your family weren't already enough of a modge podge). Mostly, though, she kicks her feet and occasionally asks you a question ranging from "what's for dinner" to "how do computers work," none of which you have a solid answer for.

The next day is quiet.

Too quiet.

The last time you had to think those thoughts, you were in college, and you had been 100% correct, so you can't be blamed for being suspicious this time, as well. You arrived home from work and Claire didn't greet you at the door, and she didn't scream about going to the amusement park or, for that matter, about anything else. For a moment, you panic, did she "run away" again, this time without you watching out for her? A quick sweep of the house revealed, instead, that she is laying on the couch, cocooned in a blanket, watching Cartoon Network. You see her hazel eyes peeking out from the blankets, so you know she hasn't fallen asleep watching the television.

You slowly make your way to carefully sit on the end of the couch, next to her small feet. "Everything okay?" you ask, and you hate the way it sounds, because it's still only been two years, and nothing is okay, and you're always waiting for the second shoe to drop. She doesn't answer for a long time, long enough for you to sift through an immeasurable number of situations that may or may not occur but, as usual, she surprises you.

"We're never going to Disneyworld, are we? Uncle Gabe was just playing a mean joke, wasn't he?" She asks this with a broken voice, the voice of a five year old who has just, finally, accepted defeat. It's remarkably similar to the voice of a man who needs a drink, or twelve, which is a little how you're feeling, too.  
"Fortunately for you, the joke Gabriel has played was, actually, on me," you let our your own world-heavy sigh and add, "why don't you go pack a day bag? I was gonna take you tomorrow, but what's one day earlier? Just remember, we can't stay long!"

She probably only hears half of what you say, because she bolted to her room as soon as she heard 'bag.' As you push yourself to your feet and go to pack a small bag of your own - water, snacks, a camera - you consider changing out of your suit, but settle for shucking off your suit jacket and loosening your tie. Let's face it, it doesn't matter what you wear, anyone can tell with a glance that you're a single dad with a job, five year old, and a season pass to Disneyworld. When you start taking days off work you'll try to present yourself a little better, but in the meantime, this is well enough.

Anyway, Claire wouldn't wait for you to change, even if you wanted to. She practically pushes you into the car, opening your door and everything.

It's going to be a long summer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't very long, either, but i'm just going to post something so i fucking have it done etc etc
> 
> unrelated music rec??:  
> Drive Darling by Boy

Shrieking.

To your well-trained ears, you can tell it's happy shrieking, seeing as you've been hearing a lot of Claire's shrieking lately. Ariel, on the other hand, does not look like she's so sure about this, until Claire was shoving her autograph book at her, and turning to look at you like it was literally raining candy from the Heavens above. You give her a reassuring smile before she turns back to Ariel, who's successfully dawned a new smile, which has Claire grinning back up at her.

You wait for Claire to finish asking questions about her transitioning from mermaid to human society and all the ups and downs that come with it (ranging from ups such as Prince Eric and lows like broccoli). When she seems satisfied, you hold your hand out for her, and she comes running back to you. You give Ariel a grateful smile (face characters don't get enough gratefulness from parents, you think), and remind Claire to thank her once more before you head on your way. It was only one week into your almost daily trips to Disneyworld and you were beyond grateful to discover Claire had wound down a lot since the first day. She definitely still wanted to come every day, but she got tired earlier, and she even sometimes let you leave the house after noon.

Now she was already clinging onto your pant leg and occasionally giving you forlorn looks until you hoisted her onto your shoulders, wondering aloud if she wasn't getting a little too old for piggy backs, an accusation that makes her huff indignantly. "Almost ready to head home?" you ask. She shakes her head, but you're inclined to believe she is just being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. "Alright," you indulge, "then how does a brief break for ice cream sound?" You feel her nod and immediately reroute yourself to the nearest ice cream stand.

She clambers down while you get her a vanilla-chocolate swirl cone and yourself a small cup of vanilla because you think you earned a bit of indulgence, even if your desk job may beg to differ. You hand hers off and she makes her way to the nearest bench as soon as it's in her hands. She turns, briefly, to make sure you're following her, and you give her a smile, your lips parting to make a comment, when in a blur, her ice cream is gone, and you're both too confused to react properly.

And that, that is when the shrieking really starts. At first you think, logically, that it's the loss of ice cream, and you rush to assure you you'll get her another. But this shrieking isn't the bad kind. This isn't the scream of a child barren of ice cream. It takes you a moment to look where she's looking and, oh, right.

Disneyworld.

"PETER PAN," you wonder, fleetingly, if any voice has gone that high before, and you want to apologize to everyone, but especially Peter Pan. But he just bows, ice cream in one hand, and winks.

"The one and only," he affirms, and Claire can not get her autograph book in his hands fast enough. You appear to take the ice cream back from him so he has enough hands to sign for her and he doesn't have to return it to her jittering hands. "I've heard about you. Claire, yeah?" He asks, and her eyes go wide as saucers. "Ariel had some things to say about you. Something about _good manners_ and _very sweet_. That don't sound like you, does it?"

You smile at Claire's immediate internal conflict, before she blurts, "yeah, but-!" except there isn't any room for buts.

" _Really_?" he leans back and eyes her suspiciously, "but you still like adventure, right?"

She nods so quickly you feel dizzy watching her, and you're quick to place a hand on her head to calm her, before handing her ice cream back. "What do we say?" you urge, and she makes a distressed face, glancing between you and Peter Pan.

" _Dad_ ," she urges, "you don't say 'thank you' to Peter Pan!! He's from Neverland!"

You smile again, and look at the face actor. "Well, I think they have thank yous in Neverland, too. For special occasions, that is."

The man looks like he's nodding before he knows what he's doing, but his expression quickly changes from caught-child to playful in seconds flat, the glint in his green eyes practically cartoonish. "That's right," he leans down a little to whisper conspiratorially to her, "your dad seems like he knows more than he lets on," and in no time her wide eyes are turned up to you again.

"Claire," you remind, and her head snaps back to Peter Pan.

"Thank you!" she adds, as he hands her back the autograph book.

He gives her a grin and a, "hey, no problem! Thanks for stopping by to see lil ol' me!"

He barely finishes the sentence before she assures, "I'll see you again! I'll visit again! Dad will buy you ice cream of your own tomorrow!" Which, you guess, you're now obligated to do or it might constitute as neglect, if the way her eyes are sparkling is any indication.

"Oh?" he laughs, the sound warm which is, yeah, wow, not even a thing you thought.

"Season passes," you intone, and for a moment you see the sympathy in his eyes as he takes in your state of disarray, from the bags under your eyes to your messily done-up button down, and you shift a little uncomfortably.

'Tomorrow, then!" his voice is bright, not betraying his pity, and Claire nods reverently before she takes your hand again and you lead her in the vague direction of the exit, although she doesn't take her eyes off Peter Pan. "And I'm holding you to that ice cream!" he adds after a moment, and you can't entirely tell if he's letting you or Claire know.

That night you rewatched _Peter Pan_ twice and, God save your soul, _Peter Pan 2_ once, and you stayed up well into the dark hours laying in a small pillow fort with Claire as she told you all the reasons Peter Pan was the best thing that's probably ever happened to the world. You agree, your reasons though have a lot less to do with his ability to fly and fight pirates than they do moss green eyes and a kind smile and a smattering of freckles. You decide this definitely isn't worth even pretending to acknowledge as a problem, given that it isn't, and you're allowed to think a face character at Disneyworld is cute without it being a goddamn catastrophe.

You remind yourself the reason you're at Disneyworld at all is because of this little girl. That you are raising. That definitely puts a hampering on your desire to ask Peter Pan out for drinks.

As you drift off to sleep you think, just to yourself, that you are probably screwed. And also that you are in for a very, very long summer.


End file.
